


Let me first punch you in the face

by Ely_Pines



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Meet-Ugly, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Pines/pseuds/Ely_Pines
Summary: Steve "skinny" Rogers met Bucky "one-arm" Barnes when Bucky punched him for no reason.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Maria Hill & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doandhope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doandhope/gifts).



> This work was not supposed to be published yet - or even written. But then it became somewhat too fucking relevant.

“Come on, Steve! You’ve got to go out for once!”

Natasha’s voice resonated in the room with mixed pleading and frustration. Steve didn’t even look at his phone laying on a table a few feet apart from his stool and his canvas. He didn’t want to miss that sunset. He only growled. His friend didn’t surrender.

“Let’s be serious. When was the last time you had a night out?”

This time, the young man gave a proper answer.

“When I had time. Which I currently don’t. Please, stop insisting, Nat.”

Silence followed his words and for a few seconds, Steve sincerely believed Natasha had given up and hung up. But she didn’t.

“We’ll be back before ten. What about that?”

He sighed. He had almost finished his painting for a commission online. Next, he had to do the one for his teacher - although he was two years into a Doctorate he still took classes. Moreover, that one was going to be tricky. Commissions were hard work, hours on a painting, but at least, the directions were precise. Meanwhile, what his teacher asked for the assignment was for him to “choose a painting and redraw it with a new emotion.” To begin with, he had no idea what original painting he wanted to pick, let alone what kind of emotion he would have it switch to.

“Steve, come on. I’ll promise, it will be in a nice bar, just the three of us, we’ll just enjoy a drink and talk for a bit and be back before ten.”

Steve chewed on his brush.

“When you mean the three of us...?”

“You, me and Maria.”

“Right. Of course.”

Him, Natasha and Natasha’s girlfriend he had known for as long as he had known Natasha herself. They were of very good company indeed and weren’t (too much) nosy about his intimate life.

He kept chewing. A drop of paint slipped from the brush and crashed on his already stained jeans. When realizing it, he smashed the tool on his apron and looked thoughtfully at his painting. It just missed a spot of sky in the middle up and the trees on the landscape. Steve drove his wheeled stool to the table where he had left his phone to check the time. It was five in the afternoon. He could be finished in one, two hours max. It would left him with plenty of time to prepare the new canvas for his assignment. Plus, Natasha was right. He had barely left his flat during the last few months. And the virus had little to nothing to do with that. Maybe this night out would do him good. Heck, maybe it would even inspire him.

“Fine. I surrender. I’ll come.”

It was almost as if he could hear Natasha’s grin.

“Excellent! We’ll pick you at eight, okay?”

“It’s perfect.”

The call ended. Now, to finish this sunset...

At eight, Steve was ready. He had a light dinner and took a shower. He put on a fresh pair of jeans and a nice red pull-over that hid the smeared shirt underneath (he had realized that apart from buttoned-up shirts he kept for more formal occasions, he had not one T-shirt left spared of paint stains). The two girls rang on the intercom and he answered them.

“Evening Steve” said Maria, “you’re ready?”

“Yup. Coming right now!”

He stuffed his wallet and his keys in his pocket and ran down the three floors’ worth of stairs. When he finally got outside, he took his time to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. His two friends looked at him with pity in their eyes.

“You know, Rogers” said Natasha, “we could have waited a few minutes. No need to have an asthma attack for us.”

Steve would have gladly answered with a “real funny, Nat” if he hadn’t been on the verge of having an asthma attack indeed. Bloody skinny, weak body. Fortunately, his breath came back quickly and they started walking. The blond immediately changed the subject.

“Where are you taking me? By the way, I’ve already eaten.”

“Yeah, we also ate” Natasha replied.

“Tho,” said Maria, “the place we’re taking you to does have nice pancakes.”

Steve shrugged.

“Then maybe we could try them later.”

The bar was actually mid-distance between Steve’s home and the flat Maria and Natasha shared since the beginning of the year. Steve walked between the two girls. People looked at them - two fierce women and a man whose head didn’t even reach their shoulders. Steve tried not to think about it. It was somewhat easy because his two friends kept his mind distracted by their meaningless chat.

Some ten mines later, they arrived at the bar. It was a somewhat Irish bar with large windows, a low ceiling but very well-lit and ventilated. Maria briefly left them to go salute the owner of the pace. There was also a pool table in the back with men already playing. All the stools near the counter were taken. All the men here were - Steve couldn’t help but notice - huge. And all the women looked like they were either Nat’s or Maria’s (or even the both of them) sisters. They found a double bank near the entrance to the back door and sat down, with Steve facing his two friends.

“Is it a gay bar or something?” he joked.

Maria huffed but Natasha gently smiled. A waiter arrived and they commanded their drinks: a mint mojito for Maria, a vodka for Natasha and a blonde beer for Steve.

“So, how are you guys doing?” Steve asked when the waiter had left.

Maria started talking about her job at the police force and Steve listened with attention. Though he knew her for a very long time, he did talk way more to Natasha than to her and thus he didn’t know the latest news about Hill.

“So, I assume it’s going pretty well” he said when she was done talking about her newest missions and the new responsibilities she had gotten recently.

“Yeah, you could say that. I’m hoping for a promotion before the end of the year.”

“I guess it’s great then.”

Steve had always struggled with the thought of Natasha - a freelance artist, ecologist and LGBT activist - dating a cop - which also happened to share the same activism. And today probably more than ever. Although it had honestly nothing to do with himself having trouble with authority - the racist one especially. So once again, he couldn’t resist himself.

“But apart from your job, everything is going fine? I mean, with Trump being president? With what’s happening in the street? Do you, like, support Trump?”

“You well-know I don’t Steve! But the authority being currently flawed doesn’t mean we should drop off all laws and let ourselves fall into chaos!”

“’Sides, she only does traffic right now” chimed in Natasha, calmly.

The two glared at her. Steve because he thought this topic was too serious for this dumb jokes, Maria because it wasn’t even true and was thus conflicted about whether she should kill her girlfriend or have mercy in the name of Love. Natasha shook her head with disappointment.

“You guys are no fun.”

She rose, moving her empty glass under their eyes.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna refill this.”

They watched her leaving then Steve apologized for having let himself be carried away.

“No, you’re right” said Maria with a sigh, “I mean, your concerns are rightful.”

At this point, Steve rose too and excused himself. He hurried towards the toilet all the other way across the bar while hoping he could be back before Natasha would.

Meanwhile, at the counter, Natasha had slid between two leather jacket men.

“Over there!” she shouted to the barman who gestured to her to let her know they had seen her.

As she was waiting for them to finish what they were doing, the men near her turned to her. One had sunglasses and the other was bald with a huge beard.

“Hi lady, comin’ here often?” asked the first one suggestively.

“Yep, but not for you, sorry” she replied immediately.

The second one stood down his stool and tried to grab her by the hip. She resisted and he growled, visibly frustrated.

“Come on, we just want to buy you a drink. Isn’t it all profit for ya?”

Natasha had taken a step back while looking around for the barman. Unfortunately, they were laughing at some joke from a client afar from where she was.

“Please” said Natasha, “I can buy my own drink. And I’m already here with my girlfriend...”

She didn’t finish: the bald man swore and spat to her face.

“Fuckin’ lesbians!”

This was getting out of hand, Natasha thought for herself. She eyed Maria but Maria was focused on writing a text.

“Okay, no need for...”

“For what?” shouted the sunglasses man. “For treating you like you deserve? You fucking lesbian.”

The redhead had no doubt she could take the two of them and within seconds but she also didn’t want to do it except as a last resort. Unfortunately, things didn’t get left at that.

“Hey!” shouted a man from across the counter, near the pool table.

He had dark long hair and a missing arm. Maybe he was not as tall as the two other men but his muscles were clearly bigger.

“Fucking stop talking to her like that!”

The black man next to him put his hand on his only forearm in an attempt to calm him down.

“Barnes...”

Natasha’s eyes widened. Was it...?

The bald man took a step onwards.

“And why would we do that, crippled? Or are you like, you know, one of them?”

The so-called Barnes stood up immediately, clenching his fist.

“Because if you don’t stop, I’ll freaking punch you in the face, asshole.”

Alerted by the shouting, the barman finally showed up.

“Hey, hey! No fighting guys! No fighting or y’all have to get out!”

The bald man laughed.

“Don’t worry, pal. This pussy will never act. He’s just talk.”

“That’s it!” Barnes shouted before throwing his fist in the man’s jaw.

The punch throw the man directly to the ground. During one second, he stayed there, completely appalled by what had just happened - but the next one, he was already up and fighting back.

“Aw, come on!” said Natasha, “this is not necessary!”

But someone - the sunglasses man - grabbed her around the waist.

“Yeah, not necessary to be that man-hating baby!”

Natasha had patience - but up to a certain amount only. Quickly, the bar became a battleground. Barnes, his friend and the redhead were fighting the two men who somehow gained two more allies. When Maria saw that, she jumped to his feet and went to grab her girlfriend before pushing her towards the exit. Natasha resisted.

“Stop it! Stop it! WTF are you doing? They insulted us!”

“I believe you” said Maria, “but really, babe, let’s just get outside before it gets uglier.”

People not involved in the fight were already trying to leave while the barman warned the belligerents they were about to call the police.

“Listen!” said Nat, “you are the police! Do something!”

“I can’t! If I have to act, it’ll have to be against that armless guy who threw the first punch. And if the police do come, I... I don’t know what will happen. So I don’t want us to be there at all.”

They finally managed to get outside. They stepped away from the door and the redhead snatched her bag away from Maria. She looked and was pissed.

“Maybe Steve’s right, after all...”

Maria frowned, her heart missing a beat.

“What? Nat, what are you-”

“Where’s Steve anyway?”

They both looked around and didn’t find his scrawny body.

“He must still be in the toilet” said Maria eventually. “Let’s just wait for him.”

Natasha shook his head.

“Hell no. I’m getting him back myself.”

And she stepped inside the bar again.

Steve was peacefully peeing. He was a bit surprised for he had only drink half a beer yet, but then, he remembered he had forgotten to go to the bathroom before leaving. His business done, he washed his hands with great care before stepping back into the cosy bar. Or, at least, attempted to.

He had not even begin to move towards his place that suddenly, he received a fist in the face that send him to the ground. Shocked, he raised his hands to his nose and felt the warmth of the blood. A deep voice came to his ears.

“Oh shit, oh fu- I’m so sorry, man, I-!”

Steve didn’t think twice; he got right back up and punched back the man who had just attacked him. The man groaned and grabbed his painful ribs. In the mere second after that, Steve’s artistic mind encaptured the whole silhouette: the long hair, the bluest eyes of all... and the missing left arm. For one moment, Steve felt bad for hitting a disabled person. Then he recalled his bleeding nose.

“Why the heck did you punch me for?”

The brunet looked at him, puffing.

“You don’t understand... Lesbians...”

At this instant, Steve saw Natasha at the bar’s entrance. She both look dismayed and furious. Dismayly furious if you will. Steve felt sick.

“Because they’re lesbians? Seriously?”

The armless guy managed to stand again. He no longer seemed sorry.

“Yeah, seriously. You got a problem with that?”

Well, thought Steve, he would no longer feel bad.

“A big one!”

The rest was a bit of a blur. He fought for his friends, that was for sure. Received many punches because of that, no denying it either. Then the police arrived and they were kicked out of the bar. The armless guy and three other dudes were taken into custody but luckily for him, Maria had managed to get him away before the cops actually started arresting people. He left the two women shortly afterwards, however, and went home alone.

At home, he cleaned his face and put off his now dirty pull-over. He headed for his bedroom and took out his phone. It was nine past twelve. At least, Natasha kept her promise, he thought bitterly. Still, he couldn’t believe it. There was so much homophobia out there in the world. And that guy with just one arm? Yeah, he was the worst of them all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This middle chapter could be named "thank God, Nat's here."

When Steve opened an eye, his mind felt light. But the second afterwards the events of the night came back to him in full force and he groaned in both anger and annoyance. Why was the world so hateful? He turned back on his bed and his eyes landed on his immaculate canvas. Another groan - from pain and frustration this time.

The blond man finally got up. He passed in front of his mirror. With only loose pants on, the thinness of his body was even more obvious. He’s eating plenty, tho! Steve didn’t hate his body but some days, when the world turned out to be so cruel he just wishes he could have a tall and muscular body, just to be able to beat up those homophobic shits outta America.

He poured himself a bowl of porridge and put it on his table. His little studio was so, well, little, he never felt the need to close his doors so that he could face the “living-room” with his canvas waiting and also perk into his bedroom through the open door. The blankness of the canvas was calling him. He was not even looking at what he put into his mouth anymore.

But what if?

His eyes scanned the area, looking for his phone. He frowned when he couldn’t find it - before he remembered it was on his bedside table like every other day of the year. He rose up and went to fetch the little device. Back in front of his breakfast, he quickly googled the painting he had in mind. Not bad, he thought. Could even work.

Steve hastily finished his porridge and carelessly threw his bowl into the sink, already running towards his bathroom. He didn’t even think; he put on a XXXL shirt he used to paint with and drew his stool to the canvas. _Liberty Leading the People._ A famous painting from Delacroix, featuring a Lady Liberty as the leader of the French people over the barricades during the July Revolution of 1830. Obviously, the painter’s intention was to show a glorious nation moving towards Freedom and Brotherhood and Every Virtue Under The Sun. The same ones, actually, that America was supposedly built on. But, well, last night proved it was just talk, not reality. His school assignment was to redraw a painting to show a different emotion. Thus, under his brush, “Liberty Leading the People” would become the bitter, disastrous “Liberty assaulted by her very own People.” And amongst those traitors and dickheads? You guessed it: that homophobic one-arm man. Steve drew him right after Liberty and the kid (who was now obese and full of himself).

Steve rose and took a step back to observe his first lines. The original painting on his phone, he checked the overall disposition of the characters and their proportion. He deemed it good enough and went searching for his paint. When he got back, his eyes got stuck on the disabled man. It was a quick, first draw but the lines of his muscles were already shown and the fewer ones for his long hair somehow showed more to the mind than a full-fledged painting. Maybe because Steve could remember the exact tone of dark brown that silky hair was. And his face, the outline of his lips...

“Oh come on!” Steve shouted to wake himself up. “I am _not_ falling for an homophobe!”

Still, the brunet was the most handsome and totally-his-type kind of homophobe.

Natasha was sitting on the terrace of a nice café on a big, busy avenue. With her perfectly done nails, she scrolled through the info feed on her phone when movements ahead of her table drew her attention away. She saw the man approaching and rose to greet him. She couldn’t help but smile.

“James!” she said, shaking his hand frankly.

They sat down.

“I can’t believe it was really you, yesterday.”

Bucky laughed.

“I thought I had recognized you too but the fight started and... You know the rest.”

The redhead nodded. For a few seconds, they remained silent. Then she spoke again, more softly:

“Was everything okay, last night? I saw the cops taking you away.”

Again, Bucky gave her his irresistible smile.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Sam... The guy who was with me, I mean. So Sam didn’t get caught and helped me get out this morning. Surprisingly, the cops thought he was trustworthy, if you see what I mean.”

“I totally see.”

Her eyes mindlessly wandered around the place to stop themselves on discreet tags put on the street lamps. Someone had written with a black sharpie “BLM”.

“So!” she said with forced enthusiasm, not wanting to think about it anymore, “what happened to you? Last time we saw each other it was in... high school I think? Man, that was...”

She tried to calculate but failed.

“...Many years ago indeed” Bucky finished, laughing.

“Exactly. So tell me everything.”

At this instant, a waiter approached them. Natasha ordered a vodka while Bucky went for a whiskey. The café was a good one and they enjoyed their drinks. While doing so, they talked about college, jobs, love affairs. Bucky told Natasha how he was helping at the Veterans Center (actually, he was helping Sam who was helping there, but that was the same thing, right?) while looking for a job. His dream would be in a museum because he loved culture and sharing it but at the same, he needed to eat. Natasha told him about her engagement with Maria. Bucky pondered for a moment.

“Maria... Maria... You mean Maria with short hair and freckles, “stop skipping classes” Maria?”

The redhead snorted.

“Yeah, that one.”

She felt she had to justify herself, considering the look of total disbelief on Barnes’ face.

“We fell out of touch for a few years. But then we met again at a bar a good friend just recommended to me on the morning and... yeah, stuff happened.”

The brunet smiled and Nat tried to hide her blush in her drink. They talked more and eventually, the topic of last night came back.

“They were all assholes” Natasha said, “and you know what they say about trolls. Yes, it was really nice of you and yes of course thank you for having my back but seriously, it was really not necessary.”

“I agree, I agree. But Nat, I couldn’t stop myself! You heard them, they... And then there was this real mean one. I mean I didn’t notice him first and I think I kinda hurt him first by accident...”

The redhead finished her drink.

“A mean one? Which one? Not that... there were some less mean than others.”

“A really skinny one. Like I really thought I could break his bones with just a slap. But the way he hit me back!”

“Wait.”

Natasha frowned. Last night, she had tried to pull Steve out of both the bar and the fight but didn’t manage to get to him - or even spot him - before the cops arrived. Then she used the subsequent confusion to finally reach him and take him away.

“When you say skinny... Sickly skinny with blonde hair?”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“You punched Steve.”

She couldn’t believe it. Bucky raised his eyebrow.

“Who-?”

“Steve. My friend. You punched... Oh my god. I can’t believe it.”

The man had already squared his shoulders and was looking at her with disbelief but also as if he was willing to put up a fight again immediately.

“That guy was your friend? You know how homophobic-”

Natasha nearly choked.

“Steve? Homophobic? He’s not, he’s even-”

She stopped herself and bit her lips. This was not something she had the right to disclose. Not ever. Still, the misunderstanding remained.

“Dear Lord. I can’t. I can’t with you two.”

Bucky snorted.

“Like, he has no problems with lesbians. Yeah, totally. Like he totally didn’t attack me because I was defending you.”

Natasha stared him down.

“You and me. We really need to talk about Steve. And then you’ll really need to talk to him.”

The woman gripped her phone more strongly against her ear when she hurried up the flight of stairs.

“Yeah, exactly, just like I told you!”

“They’re dumbasses” replied Maria inside her ear. “I don’t see another explanation.”

Natasha briefly looked around to find her way before going left, leaving the underground’s entry behind her. Her pace was fast, as usual.

“Oh, they totally are.”

She heard Maria sighing. After that, she heard a pen on a table and she just assumed her fiancée was fiddling with it and it dropped from her hand. Maria was currently at her office, trying to remain sane. While her police station wasn’t the one directly involved with the bar’s fight, she still had to answer to phone calls relative to the event and she could feel the tension among her coworkers. Natasha was already planning for a cup of tea and a hot bath to be ready when the woman of her life would return home. For now, however, she was heading to another house.

“Did you tell James?”

“Of course I did! But somehow he wouldn’t believe me!”

She stopped at the crosswalk. A few seconds later, the red warning turned green and she resumed her walk.

“So, what are you doing now?”

“Going to see Steve. I’m almost there.”

She looked at the high building and its apparently endless facade of windows, some of which having plants tasting an altitude they shouldn’t.

“Okay then, I’ll leave you. See you later!”

“Yup. Love you, bye.”

“Love you too.”

The redhead ended the call and put her phone in her pocket. She walked towards the door and thought for a second before remembering the code which opened the building’s door. Then the stairs, 3rd floor. Finally, she was at Steve’s door. She knocked three times and brushed her feet against the mat while waiting for her answer.

“Oh, hi!” said a surprised Steve when he opened the door.

“Hi,” she replied with her smile.

Steve frowned, as if he was struggling to remember something - probably whether Nat had texted him earlier to let him she was coming (she had not) - before blushing and stepping back.

“Please, come in.”

The blond man closed the door behind her. She dropped her bag and hung her coat. Steve hurried towards the kitchen area of the flat, asking her if she wanted something to drink.

“A glass of water will be fine, thanks.”

Her eyes had got caught by the canvas. She knew what Steve’s assignment was and she had been curious since the beginning for the result. Thus she moved into the living-room without asking and placed herself at the perfect distance from the art piece. A few moment later, Steve joined her with her drink.

“Thanks.”

She drank a bit and then asked, pointing towards the painting.

“So? You’ve finished yet? What’s the story behind it?”

Steve danced on his feet - as always when he was embarrassed and especially when it was because someone had asked details about his art piece. Not that he minded giving them because it was art and he loved rumbling about art but because he still struggled to find a way that wouldn’t look as if he was glorifying himself.

“It’s not completely finished but... yeah, I’m almost through. And erm, I’m glad it didn’t take me too much time. As for the inspiration... Do you know about Delacroix?”

Natasha bit her lips as she was searching through her memory - but she had studies economy, not art.

“It’s a French painter I guess?”

Steve grinned playfully.

“That’s a start! Erm, anyway, the idea is that French people helped the USA during the Independence War and, erm, I’m doing this real short, okay? Basically, both France and the USA were based on the same ideals like freedom.”

The redhead was staring at the painting.

“Doesn’t seem like the freedom lady is accepted, here.”

“That’s the point.”

She stared for a few more seconds. Then she pointed at a figure, nearly touching the canvas. She turned to Steve and rose her eyebrow. The blond blushed again.

“I might have make things a bit more personnel.”

“That’s the guy from last night” she said, not even asking.

“Yes.”

Natasha sighed and moved towards the table. Steve followed her. They both sat and the woman looked into her friend’s eyes.

“Steve, I know this guy. We were friends in high school-”

Steve turned red and hot but Natasha rose her voice and finished her sentence before he could burst into a passionate speech about how his friend was not what he seemed or whatever - the exact same speech James had wanted to make too (God, they were so much alike!)

“And he’s not homophobic at all. He’s a gay activist!”

“Oh.”

Steve did not loose his redness but the redness turned into a slightly different nuance of red.

“Oh” he repeated.

Natasha could see the realization sinking in.

“But- Why did he punch me then?”

The woman shrugged.

“He didn’t mean to, he just missed the other guy and ended punching you by accident. But then you retaliated and-”

She vaguely gestured implying the rest was history. Steve was staring down, not willing to look at her in the eyes.

“Oh my God, what I have done.”

Natasha was growing impatient. It was five fifty in the afternoon and Maria usually finished worked around six thirsty. So, she deemed her mission successful, and consecutively asked for Steve’s phone. She quickly find the “new contact” setting and gave the phone back when she was done.

“Alright,” she said, rising up, “I gave you James’ number. Call him. Or text him. Whatever. But _contact_ him.”

She stressed the penultimate word while also using her death glare and Steve was quick to acknowledge her wish. The death glare vanished and she was back to her cheerful self.

“Perfect! Then I bid you goodbye Steve Rogers for I have an almost wife to take care of!”

They hugged and Steve accompanied her to the door. They ugged again and wished good bye to each other then Natasha disappeared down the stairs. Thus Steve was left with a faulty painting - and a phone number.

Bucky closed the door and started untying his shoes.

“I’m back!” he shouted.

Sam’s head popped out of his bedroom.

“Hey man, welcome home.”

With only his sockets on, the brunet entered the living-room and slouched on the couch. His friend - and flatmate - joined him.

“So?” he asked, curious and smiling, “was it really your old friend?”

“Yes, it was!”

“Amazing.”

Bucky proceeded to tell Sam everything about Natasha who had sent him a message via Facebook this very morning, asking if he was around and if they could meet (Bucky should have been surprised but he was almost expecting it, as he had recognized her in the bar and wanted to get back in touch too).

“That girl with her is her fiancée? So sweet.”

“So sweet.”

They fell silent. The brunet was shifting on his seat and Sam picked on it immediately - after all, they had been living together for many months already.

“What are you not telling me?”

Bucky was reluctant but when he saw genuine concern over Sam’s face, he decided to tell him about that particular part of the conversation.

“You remember the skinny guy who tried to fight me?”

“Oh, yes, I do. I think he thought he was going to win because of your disability which tells a lot about how a jerk he is.”

“Well, actually, according to Nat, he’s not a bad person.”

Sam stopped and then slowly said:

“He’s white.”

“The cops were white too this morning! And _I’_ m white!”

“First of all, you literally gave your _arm_ to rescue some people you didn’t even know about. Secondly, we almost didn’t get you out this morning!”

Well, Bucky thought, he couldn’t argue with that. Although it did go way better than they anticipated when the cops arrested him last night. He got to be in a separate car from the dickheads he had been fighting. Later on, they were interrogated separately too and spent the night in different cells. What did the trick was most certainly the fact that the police was dealing from riots and general civil unrest at the moment and didn’t want to get involved in queer-related fights. Not during the month of June and not during aforementioned civil unrest. Proof was they only barely looked at Sam’s ID and didn’t even questioned him.

“OK, I give you that one. But you saw the man, he’s so skinny he must be sick or something!”

“Hate to break it to you Bucky, but disabled people aren’t necessary good because they’re disabled or sick.”

Sam rose to go cook diner. The brunet stayed on the couch, mulling over the facts and the feelings. Truth be told, he was obsessed with Steve since he had seen him. Even dreamed of him during the night. Steve was, to be honest, absolutely his type: nice blonde hair, adorable twink body (and ass) and fierce spirit. He wished Nat was right and it was all a big misunderstanding. But Sam was right, too: he shouldn’t get attached if Steve revealed himself to be the asshole Sam thought he was.

The man rose from the couch and went to the kitchen. Sam was whistling cooking. Bucky set the table then sat in front of his plate.

“You can’t contact him anyway, right?” Sam asked out of the blue.

He didn’t think of that.

“You’re right.”

“Then forget about him already. There’s not point.”

The moment Sam finished talking, Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pocket. While he unlocked it, he couldn’t help but tease his friend.

“I wouldn’t go around falling for guys who punch me if you didn’t have so strict preferences.”

Sam laughed.

“Sorry man, the booty’s only for the ladies.”

Bucky mimed being frustrated then turned his attention back to the text he had just received. His heart immediately stopped.

“Buck? Hey man, what’s happening?”

The brunet did not answered. Instead, he showed the screen of his phone and the black man read aloud:

_“Hi, I’m Steve. Natasha apparently told you about me. Can we talk?”_

Bucky looked at Sam, uncertain. Sam thought, thoughtfully. Eventually, he shrugged and went back to his cooking.

“Come on!” Bucky pleaded. “What should I answer?”

Sam opened his mouth but closed it almost right afterwards. He turned off the oven, distributed the meat and the vegetables equally between the two plates and sat down. Then he talked.

“I don’t know, man. I seriously don’t know.”

With that being said, he started to eat. Bucky sighed and followed his lead.

Later on, Bucky was laying on his bed, staring at the text message from Steve. He hadn’t received another one. Surely, Steve wasn’t trying to push him, letting him open the conversation or not at all. But what should Bucky answer? “Are you homophobe?” Or: “are you gay?” Either one was terrible.

“Good night!” Sam’s voice came in through the door.

“Good night!” he replied.

He heard his friend going to his own bedroom and closing the door. The flat was silent. It was getting late and Bucky was tired from his night in custody. But he didn’t want to leave Steve waiting for the night - even if the man was actually already sleeping. Bucky took in a long breath - and typed his answer.

_Hi. I’m James but my friends call me Bucky. Yes we can talk._

This was downright awful. Bucky threw his phone on his bed and began to undress. He was in the middle of taking off his shirt when he heard the familiar buzzing of his phone. He threw himself to go grab it, disregarding his shirt being halfway off - or the uncomfortable position he ended in.

_Nice! Can we meet tomorrow? Same bar?_

He hadn’t finished reading the text that another one followed.

_I’ll ask Nat and Maria to join if u want._

Bucky smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

The alarm clock rang and Steve turned it off immediately. He didn’t rise, though—but didn’t go back to sleep either. He lay still, his eyes wild open and wildly questioned his recent life choices. _It’s a bad idea,_ he thought. After several seconds, he shook his head and grabbed his phone to check the time. His... appointment was at eleven. Maria had agreed to come get him at half past ten. It was nine past a few minutes. He turned on his back, facing the ceiling. He had plenty of time to get ready. Plenty of time to _mull_ over this whole story. He groaned.

"This is really stupid. I'm stupid!" he shouted, finally rising.

Next stop: the bathroom. He needed to take a long, really  long and hot shower.

***

Here, the alarm clock had rung a long time ago already. Sam needed to be at the Veterans Center at nine and since Bucky didn't have a job yet, he used to cook him breakfast. A way to show him his support. Also, Bucky had long lost the habit of sleeping well into the morning. Instead, he liked going to the gym or just for a run around the block. Not today, though. Today he had, well, it was hard to define, so let's settle for 'meeting' - at eleven. He didn't want to arrive there all sweaty and smelly. He looked at his face on the mirror. It was foggy because of the hot shower he had just taken but he had opened a window right after it and the fog was starting to fade. Using his single hand, Bucky was gently drying his hair with a white towel. His hair was most certainly a mess. But he liked it that way. Especially, he liked it long. It distracted people from his missing arm. As it had been a few years already, he was used to it but sometimes, the people's stares were just too much. He hoped the meeting would go fine. At least, Nat would be there. And even right here in his home because she was going to accompany him.

***

Steve left the shower, even grumpier than when he had entered it, and he moved towards the kitchen to open the cupboard quite roughly. His canvas, though some feet away, seemed to be weighing on his shoulders and it itched at him, not facing it. It was almost as if he felt judged by the painting. So he glared back at it and bit his spoon full of cereals.

***

Bucky was ready. A nice pair of jeans, obviously tight where due, a purple shirt and a big pull-over around his neck. He was absolutely ready but he was completely too early, too. He sat down on the couch, thinking about reading. Or watching TV. Anything that would help him waste time while preventing his anxious mind from wandering. Because no need to think about the meeting. No need to stress. Nope. Not at all. Just relax.

Worst case scenario, he would  simply feel  terrible for the rest of the day.

***

"Steve, for God's sake, seriously?"

Maria was  roaming all over his place while he  sulked against the wall,  near the front door.

"You're not even dressed!"

He  didn’t look at her. She sighed and moved towards him  and gently put her hands on his shoulders.

"What's happening? Why are you not ready yet?"

He shrugged.

"I don't feel like going anymore. That's all."

She didn't reply. But her eyes didn't leave him. They stayed like that,  fixated on him for a few moments before Steve pushed her away.

"Okay! FINE. I'll get ready!"

The policewoman patiently waited near the front door—as Steve didn't think to close his bedroom's door (he never did). The blond man reappeared shortly after that with some pants on and a button-up shirt. No tucked properly in the pants. Not even buttoned up properly. Maria bit her mouth to stop herself from saying something. Finally, they put their masks on and left Steve's flat to start walking towards the Irish bar.

Steve didn't speak once  during that short time . Behind his  apathetic face, his heart was starting to beat faster. Bucky used to be friend with Nat — and was again  apparently . This meant something. At  the very  least, he couldn't be all  that  bad  of a person .  Point on case, h e was gay and beautiful. No, hold down. Not every gay person was a saint. What if Bucky didn't like him?  Besides,  Nat was naive during High School — she told him  that herself — so maybe she would deem Bucky problematic  _now_ .  Bucky was disabled and that was  damn  petty of him  to think like that.

"Steve?"

He got startled. When he calmed down, he could see Maria holding the door of the bar for him. He held his elbow to prevent his hand from touching it and they stepped inside. There were less people than last time. They immediately saw where Bucky and Nat were—same place than last time. Steve's heart raced even faster and louder and he maniacally tried to wipe the sweat off of his hands on his jeans. Nat was waving enthusiastically at them. Bucky who faced the other side had to turn around to see them. He was simply smiling. Steve was absolutely red, wasn't he? Someone end this nightmare.

"Hi, Bucky, nice to meet you.”  said Maria while shaking his hand. “I mean, again. It's been such a long time."

"It has, indeed. We'll need to catch up  on that later."

"Definitely!"

Bucky moved so Maria could go sit next to him, near the windows and facing her girlfriend. Steve sat too and got to be besides the redhead, in front of Bucky. He and Maria could finally take off their masks. In the heat of the room it was a relief.

"So, what were you guys talking about before we interrupted you?" he asked  as a way of distracting the attention from himself.

Bucky leaned back on his seat.

"Oh, just Biden's  program. I think Nat's too kind  on him. He's certainly not a leftist  and definitely not the best man for this country. "

Steve’s clenched his jaws.

"So let's just vote for Trump;  that’s what you’re saying, right? "

The man's face closed down.

" What I’m saying  is, we need to get that  orange  danger out of the White House ASAP but we mustn't believe Biden will be automatically better."

"Over here, please!" shouted Natasha who half-rose from her seat to wave to the bar tender .

The two men stopped talking as the  person came to their table. Their eyes fell on the two of them and flared.

"If you two are here to fight..." they started, their voice deep and growling.

"No, we're not" said Barnes immediately. "And as a matter of fact, I wanted to apologize for last time. I'll make sure it will never happen again."

Th e bartender growled but seemed to take the apology as genuine. Steve eyed Bucky with circumspection. He seemed like the sweet guy.  W hat  for ? So Steve could pass for the rude one? Like he was the one who started the fight? Nu-uh.

"I want to apologize too. And er, may I say, thank you for letting us come back. I really enjoy this bar."

This time, the barperson  had a smile . 

" Thanks!  So, what can I get you?"

They ordered their usual drinks and at the last second, Steve remembered the pancakes and asked for some. He had just finished his breakfast but right now, he was craving sugar.

"So, James told me he was helping at a Veterans Center," said Natasha smiling with all her willpower as she was trying not to kick either of her two friends and Bucky took the bait.

"Well, you know, like you said, I'm just helping. It's not an every day thing, it's more like.. If I can make a little change, you know?"

"I see what you mean" Steve chimed in. "I also volunteer sometimes, in schools. I like to... kinda inspire the young generation. Or, like, just showing them that queer people can have a life as fulfilling as anyone else."

"Oh, it's like what I do at the  center but reverse: I'm here to show soldiers they can have a civil life again. But I love going to Pride. I'm not old yet but I think it's important to show up, still.  Too bad it's been  canceled this year."

"You know, I see it more like the parade has been  canceled , but not the pride.  I like to think that our Pride is standing besides our black siblings, and to support the BLM movement.”

For several more minutes, they kept ranting about social justice, equality for all, education at all levers, all those lovely and admirable ideas that, albeit they truly believed in, were used on this moment as a show-off tool. Like two peacocks in a court. They were so absorbed in that ridiculous debate they forgot to drink. Meanwhile, Natasha had finished her second vokda and Maria was calmly eating the pancakes Steve didn’t even look at.

"Wow, you guys can be such pricks"  she stated finally. “ Reminds me why I started dating gals.”

The  two men were so surprised they shut up  and stared at the policewoman.

"No, like, seriously”  she said. “What is  that ? The contest of who has the biggest  one ? Men!  Never mind gay or straight, they're the same!  So sorry not sorry,  but I'm not here for that. Besides, I  only took the morning off so it's time for me to g et back to work."

She rose and Natasha followed herself, in a way that made it clear she was relied to leave, too. The two men watched them go to the counter to pay and then exit the bar. They got left alone—and quickly diverted their eyes to focus on their full drinks. Steve felt bad about himself. He knew he had been bragging. He just didn't know why he had felt the need to do it... Well, he kinda did, actually. He wanted to make sure that Natasha and Maria knew he was a good guy. That, last time, he believed he was fighting for them. And, most certainly, that was Bucky’s thoughts, too. Steve bit his lip. He was pathetic.

"I, er, it's nice of you for  volunteering” he said in a coy voice.

"Thanks. You too."

They sat in silen ce , not even having the guts to look at each other. Steve focused on drinking his  bear .  When he was done , he rose  awkwardly .

"I need to go... Work..."

"Yeah, me too."

They barely wished the other a good day as they parted outside the bar. Steve went right back home, in his bedroom, d own on  his bed and  to  scream  in his pillow.

Later that day, as he was moaning in front of his painting — what should he do with it?  — his phone buzzes. It was from Bucky.

_Today was not great._

Steve snorted. That was an understatement.  The phone  buzzed again .

_Look, I'm sorry. Can we try to hang out another time?_

_Just the 2 of us this time_

Steve pondered for a few seconds before replying.

_Sure_

And they  planned for a walk on a Tuesday's evening.

This date—for this time it was truly one—went great. No, actually, it went magically. Their ego put aside, their need to show to the other how great of a person they were, not in the peacock fight anymore, they were able to truly get to know each other. And Steve was honestly impressed by Bucky's work at the Veterans Center, as much as Bucky was verily amazed to discover Steve's art culture (and simply Steve being an artist). So after that, they went to a museum for the next date. And then to Bucky's Veterans Center. And then, just before school ended, they gave a talk together in a middle school of the district. As summer started, Bucky went to see Steve's class exposition and stood a really long time in front of Steve's painting. 

The blond man had simply entitled it 'Liberty now.' Despair was what came out of the painting. Liberty was  defeated ,  lying  in the mud. No more triumph, no more leading. Yet... This Black man was protecting Liberty with his own body. Near them, another man down, one arm missing, long brown hair, bluest eyes of all.  He  was reaching to them. And the kid, who was fat, had still a determined look on his face a s he was tr ying to  fly a  shredded  rainbow flag. 

It was a beautiful painting.

_Some time later, in November._

Bucky and Steve were sipping their kiwi mojito, their eyes fixed on the TV screen which hanged over the counter of the Irish bar they had somewhat turned into their go-to place when they wanted to go on a date but were also too lazy to be creative. Mica, the bartender, while wiping glasses, would also dart frequent glances at the screen. Two heavily bearded men with caps sat at the counter and also focused on the media stream. The rest of the bar was quiet, as it was pretty early in the evening.

"We'll won... Right?" asked Steve  softly.

Mica shrugged and readjusted his mask. As the female newscaster once again announced the  (very  tied )  electoral votes , one of the bearded man growled.

"Trump 2020!  It’s clear he’s winning " he said with a burp.

Steve briefly closed his eyes. How could it be, that a so very clearly queer coded bar still ended up with Trumpists drinking at its counter? And Mica had to put up with it because one quarantine had severely damaged their business and they needed every client they could get.

"I certainly hope not" replied Bucky, very coldly.

The two bearded man turned to him. Mica glared at him.

"Trump is what America needs right now. A strong will! Not some crappy pussy..."

"Trump murdered people when he pretended the virus didn't exist!"

"Buck." said both Steve and Mica at the same  time.

Bucky raised his hand in a peaceful way.

"Don't worry, Mica. These two assholes don't deserve my attention."

"What did you fucking called us?"

The two men were down their stools now, and Bucky was too. They faced each other, trying to make the other recoil just with their glare. But the three of them were pretty stubborn. Not to say, Trump was losing (though he claimed the opposite) and Bucky was sick of the poisonous atmosphere reigning in the country.

"No fight inside!" tried Mica while Steve kept drinking  as to keep a low profile (what else could he do?).

"Mica's right. Let's settle this outside”  said Bucky.

The  Trump supporters laughed.

"Like you could even take one of us! What are you gonna do? Punch us with an invisible arm? Or use your pussy man next to you to hit us?"

Bucky could be  short-tempered— th is story already demonstrated this. He curled his fingers in a fist and threw his punch. But his adversaries were ready and dodged it and the punch ended  up  in Steve's face again. Steve felt as if his jaw had been annihilated. He looked with disbelief at Bucky, then at Mica,  then at Bucky again, all while the two jerks laughed their asses off. Then he  looked back at the bartender and  shook his head.

"Sorry, Mica."

To be fair, they did try pushing the Trumpists out of the bar  through their fighting . The fact they hadn't yet managed to do it before the police arrived was another matter of fact.

The next day, Biden won the presidential election. Bucky and Steve were released soon enough to go celebrate it with Maria, Nat and Sam at Mica's bar –  and no one was there to spoil the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! This fic is a summary of my year: I started with big hopes for the futur, then worldwide lockdown came and nothing made sense anymore and then June happened and I wanted a revolution but the revolution didn't come so I got just left there waiting for I didn't know what and finally, the beginning of 2021, struggling to make sense of things again and deciding to beat my own ass so to actually do something.   
> Yeah, it's been a trip.


End file.
